


chasm of years

by glueskin



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Exes, Kuro's Fathomless Guilt and Regret Cocktail, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glueskin/pseuds/glueskin
Summary: kuro has apologies to make. gear doesn't want to hear them. neither of them are certain how to navigate around the decades of things left unsaid and unresolved.alt: wyd when you see your ex for the first time in like a century except you two never Really broke up and a lot of stuff needs to be said but neither of you know how to say it and you still care about each other too much
Relationships: Neugear Hatiwelt & Kuro | Sleepy Ash
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	chasm of years

**Author's Note:**

> me when kuro and mahiru landed in london and we met gear: is it just me or do he and kuro have like extreme ex vibes  
> em: i think you are right
> 
> and every month since i have slowly lost more of what little is left of my sanity. genuinely huge shout out to em because they have dealt with me walking into their discord dms to have a breakdown about gear every time hes shown up the past like 6 months

Kuro is tired.  
  
He’s a lot of things, really. Tired. Guilty. Anxious. Sore.  
  
Mostly tired, though. He wants to find one of the closets he used to lock himself into for comfort; he wants to be a cat, hidden under Mahiru’s blankets, some furniture, anything.  
  
He doesn’t allow himself either of these indulgences. Gear’s home is no longer _their_ home. Being a cat is…something Kuro is trying not to do when unnecessary, now. He fears if he remains an animal even when inside at night like this he’ll lose all progress he’s made since Mahiru found him—that he’ll use it as an excuse to keep running away.  
  
So he stays in his human skin, drawing his coat tighter around himself despite feeling too warm as he stares out the window.  
  
London at night isn’t quite as bright as Tokyo. Kuro wonders if he should be feeling happy, or relieved, or...anything, really, about being home. He doesn’t feel much of anything.  
  
Mahiru is asleep. Youtarou had carried him to his room when the boy had dozed off on Kuro after he had explained, haltingly, things about himself he had hoped to have more time to find the words for.  
  
He should sleep, maybe, instead of simply staring out at the city's silhouette. He should find a couch or one of the closets; he needs his rest. Not for himself but for Mahiru, who is still recovering.  
  
But…  
  
Kuro blinks. His eyes ache. There’s something he had told himself he would do, weeks ago. It feels like so much longer.  
  
 _You were wrong._ _  
__  
__Move forward. Do better. Learn from your mistakes._  
  
Kuro grips his coat tight, shivering, Mahiru’s words ringing in his head. He turns away from the living room window and follows the familiar hallways to his—no, to Gear’s old room.  
  
It isn’t his any longer. It isn’t _theirs_.  
  
Gear hadn’t let him say it earlier. He might be decades late but Kuro has to tell him.  
  
The door is closed when Kuro arrives, faint light visible from the crack between it and the floor. He knocks twice; once upon a time, he would have never needed to knock at all.  
  
Shuffling. Footsteps. The door opens too soon—Kuro isn’t ready. Then again, he probably won’t ever be ready.  
  
Gear looks up at him, expression schooled into one of boredom. He’s discarded his nicer clothes in favor of sleepwear; his shirt has the album cover of some European band Kuro doesn’t recognize and his pants are loose, comfortable-looking cotton.  
  
Kuro doesn’t let himself pay attention to the lean muscle of his arms or the whisper of a thought in the back of his mind that wonders if his hair is as soft as Kuro remembers it to be.  
  
“I figured you’d come,” Gear says flatly. He doesn’t close the door on Kuro; he opens it wider and steps aside. Kuro shuffles in and the door shuts behind him.  
  
“Gear, I…” he starts, trailing off as his gaze catches on a familiar old scarf.  
  
 _His_ old scarf, from so, so long ago. Kuro had assumed Gear would have gotten rid of everything by now, but there’s Kuro’s scarf, wrapped around the wooden headboard of Gear’s bed.  
  
“Don’t say anything,” Gear snaps when he sees where Kuro is looking. Kuro closes his mouth so quickly his teeth clack, his nails digging into the fabric of his coat.  
  
Gear isn’t looking at him. His jaw is clenched and he stares not at Kuro or the scarf but at the wall.  
  
“You kept it,” Kuro says despite Gear’s words. He feels winded, moreso than he had when Tsubaki put a sword through him.  
  
“And you never fucking listen,” Gear snaps, baring his teeth. Kuro shudders—not because he feels threatened but because of the guilt and regret churning in his stomach.  
  
“You told me you didn’t want apologies,” Kuro says, throat tight. “But I meant it. I just...needed you to know.”  
  
Gear looks at him, gold eyes too bright in the dim light, his posture stiff and his expression torn.  
  
“I know,” Gear finally says. “I know, okay? But I’m angry. I thought I got over it and then you just—come back. No warning at all. You never even...” he cuts himself off, frustrated.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Kuro says again, helpless. He wants to reach out—he wants to let go of his coat and take hold of Gear instead, to press his face into his hair and bask in his warmth, but he can’t. That privilege is lost to him.  
  
Gear makes a disgusted sound, shoving past Kuro towards his closet.  
  
“I know you are, okay? So don’t say it again. I don’t want to hear it. Just let me be angry for a while longer.”  
  
Kuro wonders at what he means as Gear pulls out a bundle of spare blankets. Then he’s left wondering what the hell he’s doing as the werewolf shakes them out and spreads them out on the floor by the bed.  
  
“What are you looking at me like that for? You’ve got to sleep somewhere,” Gear snaps at him, taking two pillows off of his bed to drop onto the makeshift bedding. “You can use my bathroom too, if you need to, and for God’s sake, take your damn boots off.”  
  
“You don’t—I can sleep in a closet or something,” Kuro says. Gear snarls.  
  
“If you’re trying to spare my feelings, don’t. I would be the one locking you in with the spare linen if I was uncomfortable, Ash.”  
  
Kuro’s skin crawls at the way Gear says his name; nobody calls him _Ash_ like that, especially not now. It was another thing he hadn’t let himself miss.  
  
When Kuro says nothing, Gear sighs and drags a hand through his hair, his earring swaying and glinting in the light.  
  
“Take your boots off,” he says again, softer this time. “Get some sleep. That kid was hurt, right? I could smell it on him.”  
  
Kuro shrinks in on himself so much he fears he may change forms entirely.  
  
 _It was my fault_ , he almost says, but bites his cheek before he can.  
  
“Okay,” he says instead, quietly. He unlaces and tugs off his boots carefully, shrugging out of his coat as well. He pretends not to feel Gear’s eyes on him.  
  
When Kuro looks up, Gear’s expression is in that mask of boredom.  
  
“You’re sleeping without it?” He asks, the question betraying his expression. Kuro’s coat is a layer of armor, a weapon.  
  
“I’ve never needed protecting from you,” Kuro says. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud; had meant to say something more like _I just don’t need it_ or _you keep your room too hot_.  
  
Gear’s shock is clear on his face. Kuro’s face goes red with embarrassment; he should have kept it on, if only to sink into it like a shadow.  
  
Gear opens his mouth. Closes it.  
  
“Alexa, turn off the lights,” he says as he flops back onto his bed, apparently deciding to ignore what Kuro had said. The lights go off—Kuro can still see, knows Gear can too.  
  
Kuro says nothing. He kneels down and crawls into the makeshift bed, tugging one of the blankets up over himself; his chest hurts, his teeth throbbing in his mouth. He must be spending too much time with Lawless, to have said such a thing so easily.  
  
If Gear is ignoring it, so will he. Kuro lets the darkness sink into him, closing his eyes and pressing his face into his borrowed pillow, only to bodily shudder because it smells like _Gear_. It’s his, so of course it does, but Kuro’s stomach still swoops and his head goes foggy.  
  
“Ash,” Gear says as Kuro turns his face away to breathe. His voice almost cracks on his answering ‘ _yeah?_ ’  
  
Gear is quiet again for a long time. So long that Kuro wonders if he fell asleep, or if he had spoken at all.  
  
“I forgave you already,” he finally says, voice quiet, his tone somehow even gentler than it had been when he told Kuro to get his boots off. “Even though I’m angry. Okay?”  
  
“Okay,” Kuro chokes. He’s definitely been spending too much time with Lawless, he decides, because he has to swallow back tears.  
  
Gear doesn’t say anything else. Neither does Kuro.

**Author's Note:**

> me banging on tanaka strikes door: PLEASE. TELL ME. WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN THEM.
> 
> fun fact i love coffee and my username is glueskin


End file.
